


I'd Walk to You if I had no Other Way

by JehanFerres



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, apart from the random airport homophobe, literally all of this is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/pseuds/JehanFerres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell, he would probably start crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> friCK this is really dumb
> 
> Anyway this is for my girlfriend because she is great and also had the idea for the European Museum Adventure I'm going to cry twO YEARS IS ALMOST THREE BABIES.

Jehan Prouvaire was currently lying on the sofa in the living room of his house, tracing the tips of his fingers around the craggy outline of the United Kingdom, hoping that this would do something to bring him slightly closer to his boyfriend.

Which it wouldn't.

Or at least not for another couple of hours.

Logistically, his relationship with Combeferre was an utter distaster, but, as the suitcase that sits beside his bed, open and already containing everything he would need for the next six weeks (which he would prefer not to identify because they're strictly between him and Combeferre, thanks very much), says, it wouldn't be for long: they had finally been able to get together sufficient money and time to finally meet up, and, needless to say, Jehan hadn't stopped smiling since he realised that he would finally be able to meet his boyfriend.

Jehan grinned and flopped gracelessly backwards onto his bed, wrapping his arms around himself in the shirt (which was about a mile too big) which Combeferre had sent him a couple of weeks ago. He liked the smell of... whatever it was Combeferre smelled of (which advertised itself as Lynx, and was, reportedly, one of the most common things for English boys to smell of, "other than chip fat", or so Combeferre had jokingly told him in the letter which had been attached to the shirt), and the shirt was soft and extremely comfortable.

Really, though, he just wanted to hold onto Combeferre and actually be able to be with him and talk to him and cuddle him, and-

Well, that was a story for another time.

But soon, he would be able to do this; he would be able to be with Combeferre in a significant way, rather than just talking on the phone, because 'phone calls and Skype and not actually being able to hold each-other was starting to wear so horribly, painfully thin with both of them, and he quickly sends Combeferre a message on Skype before he gets going to the airport: "I'll see you soon <3"

Jehan threw his suitcase into Bahorel's car (Bahorel had offered to drive him to the airport rather than his father, because Jehan and his father did not get on well), and is promptly pulled into a massive hug by the bear-like man by way of a goodbye once they arrive at the airport and Jehan left to go and check in and have a minor panic attack before getting onto the plane for several hours.

Jehan woke, on the plane, at about five in the morning after falling asleep watching Night at the Museum on the two-inch screen attached to the back of the seat in front of him, curled up in Combeferre's oversized shirt and with a blanket wrapped around himself, and, for a moment, wanted to be at home in a horizontal bed - then, however, he remembered what he was actually doing on the plane.

He stretched out, and settled back down to sleep until the plane landed, or until he had to put his seatbelt (which he had taken off to sleep) back on, although he obviously found himself far too nervous and excited and generally emotional to do so. He was scared and excited and just generally unable to think straight, but at least he could finally, finally meet the person he loved after all this time (two years, or a few months over two years).

Hell, he would probably start crying.

By the time he got off the plane, however, the curl of anxiety in his chest had been replaced completely with excitement and wanting to see Combeferre at last, even as he went to get his suitcase after he had gone through security again (and been looked at oddly for how happy he was, which he supposed was only understandable). However, once he got through security, he realised what he was actually doing here, and the anxiety suddenly came back and he felt as though he was going to throw up.

Rather than doing that, however, he texted Combeferre:

Jehan: Hey, you're here aren't you? Because I am.  
'Ferre <3: I definitely am. Where are you?  
Jehan: Uh hang on I'll go in front of the currency exchange desk I have some dollars I need to turn in to pounds  
'Ferre <3: I'm next to that; that's a good idea.

Jehan frowned, looking over by the exchange desk for somebody who looked sufficiently Combeferre to possibly be him: it took him a couple of moments to register a dark-haired man wearing glasses in a leather jacket and stripy, but extremely thin, scarf - he was, if Jehan was honest, also extremely attractive: that was... that was probably him (oh God that was definitely him). He went over to the exchange desk, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious in his painted shoes and oversized shirt and flower-patterned jeans - however, Combeferre would probably recognise the embroidered design on the shirt.

Jehan: Well I'm here.  
'Ferre <3: Funny thing that; I am too.  
Jehan: A great coincidence, there.  
'Ferre <3: Well, how about you tell me where you are, silly. <3  
Jehan: Personally I would advise looking up from your phone and looking approximately 90 degrees to the left.  
'Ferre <3: ...  
'Ferre <3: you'restandingrightnexttomearen'tyou?  
Jehan: M a y b e <3  
'Ferre <3: Knew it. Come over here and hug me <3  
'Ferre <3: And I am almost certainly not going to be this coherent when we actually talk; autocorrect is my saving grace.  
Jehan: Me too God.

As Jehan put his 'phone back in his pocket, a gentle hand brushed against his back, and then Combeferre was in front of him. Jehan wrapped his arms tight around his boyfriend's neck as the taller man put his arms around his waist, his mind a buzz of various things, but mainly just... joy. He leaned away for a second, and stood up on his toes to kiss 'Ferre, who seemed surprised and froze up for a second, and then responded, moving one arm from around Jehan's waist to gently lift the smaller boy's chin, until a yell from somewhere nearby snapped Ferre almost insecurely away from him.

Jehan wrapped his arms tightly around Combeferre's neck again, doing this partly in affection, but mostly out of comfort. "Come on," he said softly, squeezing the man's hand. Combeferre squeezed back and guided Jehan outside. "I imagine I'm going to have trouble getting you to say much?" he asked.

"Probably, yes," Combeferre replied, but he laughed so Jehan assumed he was alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Laurel, for putting up with me being depressed and dramatic for the past six months <3

For Jehan, waking up in somebody's arms was not a new experience, what with the habit he, Feuilly and Bahorel had of decanting themselves onto the same mattress when they stayed together in the small apartment which Feuilly and Bahorel shared - however, he was somewhat aware that this was neither Feuilly nor Bahorel, and definitely not both of them. Jehan wriggled around a bit, mildly baffled, before remembering that Combeferre was the person with whom he was currently lying - when this struck him, Jehan wrapped an arm around Combeferre and buried his face in his shoulder.

It took Combeferre a couple of minutes to wake up after that, but once he did he cuddled into Jehan and kissed him. Jehan felt as though cuddling and staying here for today would be a good idea; Combeferre had told him last night that he hadn't really slept much for the past couple of days because he'd been so anxious, and Jehan was hopelessly jetlagged either way; he wasn't in any mood to wander around. Honestly, he really wanted to spend the next couple of days just being with Combeferre; everything else - for now, at least - could wait.

Jehan was nuzzling up against Combeferre by now, one hand on his boyfriend's waist and the fingers of his other hand interlaced with Combeferre's. He had his head resting against the philosopher's chest and Combeferre was stroking his hair with the hand that Jehan wasn't holding, although Jehan wasn't entirely sure if he was doing this consciously or if he was still asleep. He was fairly certain that Combeferre was still sleeping, though, and leaned slightly into the contact: he just wanted Combeferre to be there, and, for now, this was enough.

Jehan closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift back off to sleep, still holding onto Combeferre's hand - even in his sleep he whined when Jehan let go of his hand, so he didn't do that: he wrapped his free arm around the philosopher's waist, instead, and held onto him, burying his head in the philosopher's chest.

It had - not that Jehan had been aware at the time - been about five in the morning when he had woken up earlier: by the time he and Combeferre woke up again, it was ten or so, and Jehan felt as though the effects of jetlag were maybe starting to wear off a little, although he still didn't really feel up to moving yet. He curled himself a bit tighter into Combeferre's warmth and hugged the older man tight.

Combeferre was awake too, now - he was still visibly groggy and exhausted, leaning his chin against the top of Jehan's head. Jehan eventually wriggled away from him, though, and leaned up to kiss him: once again Combeferre momentarily seemed surprised - but with nobody around to make him jump he responded quickly, lifting Jehan's chin and pulling the poet a little closer. Jehan smiled and wrapped his arms around Combeferre's neck, clinging on tight to him. Combeferre squeezed Jehan's waist a little, stroking his cheek.

When they finally broke apart after a minute or so, Jehan was flushed: Combeferre smiled down at him, his thumb still on the poet's cheek, while his fingers were curled around the back of his head, tangled through his hair, with Jehan's arms still wrapped tightly around Combeferre, who briefly leaned down to kiss the poet's nose. "Good morning," he said blearily.

Jehan kissed him quickly. "Morning."

"Did you sleep well?" Combeferre rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

Jehan, in turn, flipped over onto his front, and leaned across to kiss Combeferre. "Better than I did on the plane, definitely," he replied softly, nuzzling against Combeferre and pressing his face into the older man's neck. "Not that that's saying anything, of course." He chuckled, and then leaned away, dragging a hand down his face and then flopping forward onto Combeferre's chest. "God, I'm still exhausted."

"Well, you did have a long flight," Combeferre responded, stroking Jehan's hair gently. Jehan nodded, humming softly into Combeferre's shoulder and kissing his neck gently until the little poet seemed to be drifting back off to sleep, curled against Combeferre's chest. Jehan's weight wasn't on his forearms any more and he had slumped onto Combeferre's chest, his face against Combeferre's neck and his arms around the older man's neck. It took Combeferre a moment to gently pull Jehan properly onto him, cradling the poet against him with one hand against the back of his head and his other arm around Jehan's waist.

After a while, Combeferre fell asleep too, despite the moderate weight of Jehan on his chest. He was surprised, or at least a little, at how light Jehan was. He knew that the poet was small and skinny; that much was obvious even from pictures, but even so he was extremely skinny. Combeferre still couldn't help smiling when he mumbled in his sleep and burrowed a little closer into his neck.

After about half an hour, Jehan woke up, but he didn't really want to wake Combeferre, not least because he was warm and therefore good to be lying on, because he was fairly certain he was going to freeze alive; he was always rather cold when he was in America, and for him home in America was Texas. England, by comparison, felt freezing, and he was unwilling to stray especially far from Combeferre, although that was not just because of warmth.

Combeferre, when he realised Jehan was awake, wrapped his arms a little tighter around the poet, before Jehan wriggled over and went to press his lips gently to Combeferre's. "How are you feeling?" Combeferre asked once he'd pulled away.

Jehan kissed him again, much less quickly but no less gently this time, before replying, "As long as I can keep doing that? Great." He smiled, curling around Combeferre and nuzzling his head into his neck again.

"God, I love you."

"I love you too." Combeferre couldn't help smiling at Jehan's tone. "Don't know how I got this lucky..." he added quietly, his head still buried in Combeferre's shoulder. Combeferre gave a soft squeak, Jehan chuckling in response and kissing him again. "Really though. I... don't understand what you see in me but..." He'd sat up now. "But I'm really happy. And I love you so much." Combeferre sat up too, wrapping his arms around Jehan's waist. Either out of comfort or affection, Combeferre didn't know which and really it didn't matter, not when Jehan was there at last, Jehan cuddled up close and pressed his face into Combeferre's shoulder.

"I love you too," Combeferre replied after a few seconds, his arms tightly around Jehan's waist and his face against the poet's hair.


End file.
